


Ethereal

by youubi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youubi/pseuds/youubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A man who took his coffee black must be made of iron, have had their tongue pulled out, or is just a very strong man."<br/>That was exactly what Mikkel thought when he met Eirik Olsen.</p><p>{ Dennor three part story about bullying, hurt, and comfort. }</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ethereal

**Author's Note:**

> Mikkel Anderson - Denmark  
> Eirik Olsen - Norway  
> Timothy Jansen - Netherlands
> 
> { All are 2nd generation immigrants in New York, USA. Also contains swearing and topics such as religion, homophobia, bullying, violence, and injury. }

 

_“The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery.”_

 

_\-- Anaïs Nin_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mikkel Andersen stared at the unsolvable puzzle in front of him.

It had entered the coffee shop with an air of mystery, carrying the scent of junipers and the forest.

It had the breeze in its wake, a sense of ageless wisdom hidden behind the soft appearance.

It had arrived in the form of a man.

"Huh, wait a sec, please repeat your order?"

The mystery simply blinked before turning his head to the side.

"Coffee, black."

Mikkel could feel his mind struggle to wrap around the enigma in front of him, his eyes widening in order to take in more of the young man in front of him. 

"J-just black coffee? That's it?"

With a silent nod a single pale hand lifted to carefully place an assortment of coins on the counter, his fingers brushing over the formica counter to quiet the metallic noise.

"That should be the exact change."

The Dane could feel his thoughts sputter at the words as his eyes scanned over the money. It was the exact amount. What kind of a customer ever came in prepared to pay the exact change of a beverage in a coffee shop?

"Uhm, great, uh, could I get your name?" Mikkel coughed, a hesitant smile on his lips as the man in front of him seemed to think for a little before answering in the same dispassionate and gentle voice.

"Eirik."

Mikkel wrote the name slowly with a black sharpie on a paper cup, much slower from how he normally wrote the names of his various customers as if he could somehow solve the paradox of a man in front of him by writing his title in human society if he scrutinized the writing carefully.

It didn't work.

As his co-worker behind him quickly prepared the drink and poured the warm coffee, black, into the paper cup, snapping a lid into place before handing it back to Mikkel and returning to his book. Mikkel took the cup and set it on the counter.

The riddle picked up the paper cup and left the coffee shop without a word, passing by the packages of creamer and sugar without a glance.

 

 

 

"I think I'm confused."

Timothy looked up from his novel. (Today it was "The Old Man and the Sea" by Ernest Hemingway.)

"Wow, Mikk thinking, I think the world might be ending."

Mikkel let the stinging remark pass over his head as he slouched over the counter, his nose crinkling as he ran his fingers through his hair, tousling the gelled locks as he looked pitifully at the Dutch man behind him with a whine.

"You don't understand, how could a man order  _black coffee_ without grabbing some sugar along the way? I mean there are those customers that order black in order to customize all the stuff they put in there themselves, but this guy just took the cup and  _left_. He didn't even  _look_ at the packets of cream!"

"Maybe he just likes coffee black."

Timothy turned a page.

Mikkel tugged at his hair. Perhaps he should let the subject drop, there was no guarantee that they were going to see the conundrum ever again anyway.

Despite that thought the gears still ran loudly in his head.

  

 

 

Eirik returned the following week, once again on a Wednesday and at three in the afternoon.

"Coffee, black."

"Welcome back, Eirik!" Mikkel exclaimed with barely hidden glee

The riddle looked up, a delicate brow raising slightly, his deep blue eyes boring into Mikkel's. He was clearly surprised about the remembrance of his name after only one visit to the shop. He hid his shock by dropping the change with a clatter on the counter, drawing attention away from himself to the clamor of coins on a hard surface.

Mikkel realized his excitement might have startled the creature in front of him only after he relayed the order to Timothy but smiled anyway. The Danish man couldn't help himself, it isn't easy to forget the name of a man who orders coffee black. Also, he gets another chance to try and solve the mystery of the fair haired man who barely spoke.

The man picked up the coffee with long slender fingers, his bow shaped lips pursing as they caressed the lid opening carefully, sipping the coffee slowly as he turned to exit the shop. Once again he left without a word, but Mikkel could have sworn that Eirik had glanced over his shoulder at him for a second before slipping into the cold winter afternoon.

 

 

 

"He doesn't wear winter clothing."

Mikkel had made the observation the third Wednesday afternoon that the rebus had entered the shop, picking up his black coffee and leaving without even glancing at the assortment of creamers and sugars that lay on the counter.

Timothy simply grunted in reply. He was reading "War and Peace" by Leo Tolstoy.

The Dane stared at the reader in disdain before gesturing wildly towards the ceiling, looking up at the wooden fixtures above them.

"He doesn't wear winter clothing!"

The Dutchman looked up from his book for a moment at Mikkel before shrugging and returning to his book.

Mikkel draped himself dramatically across the counter, leaning on the formica surface covered with coffee stains of all sizes. 

"Its Novmeber 20th of 2014, yesterday on November 19th of 2014 here in New York City at 3 pm on Wednesday, Eirik whatever-his-last-name-is entered this store only in a light gray sweater, navy blue scarf, and jeans! It was at least -2 degrees Celsius out there!"

Timothy flipped a page. 

"Maybe he rode a car most of the way from wherever he's from."

Mikkel snorted. "The nearest car park has to be at least twelve blocks away."

The subject was dropped once again as Timothy dove once more into the sanctuary of the text on paper.

Mikkel returned to thinking loudly on the counter, tugging once more at locks of wheat-colored hair.

 

  

 

"Do you walk here?"

Mikkel bit his bottom lip but was too late. The question had slipped out.

Eirik looked up at the barista in front of him. Mikkel found himself drowning in those dark blue eyes, the same color as the scarf that the man always seemed to be wearing. Today he donned a gray cardigan with a white long-sleeved shirt and another pair of jeans, still inappropriate for December 3rd. It was snowing for Christ's sake.

The Dane could feel his chest constrict oddly as the odd man reached up to tuck a lock of blond hair behind an ear, seeming to be pondering over whether to answer the Dane or not. In the end he simply nodded before returning to the notebook he was carrying in his fingers. He was carrying the same notebook last week also.

Mikkel slid a paper cup of black coffee across the counter towards the ever-deepening puzzle across from him.

"Here's your coffee Eirik. Ya' know, it wouldn't hurt you to speak to me sometimes since we consider you a regular by now."

Eirik picked up the cup, his pale skin slightly flushed at the difference of temperature of the snowy day and the inside of the heated coffee shop. His eyes flickered towards Mikkel before returning to the cup of coffee, speaking quietly over the plastic lid.

"I will try to."

He left the shop, this time a look lingering towards the pastries displayed in the glass case before exiting the shop and into the snowy winter day.

  

 

 

Timothy nearly dropped the wet rag in his hand as Mikkel grabbed his shoulders.

"Did you hear that? Oh my god, he spoke to me Tim, he  _spoke_ to me!"

The Dutch sighed exasperatedly, looking at his co-worker and friend with a well formed and experienced glare.

"Its normal for a customer to be speaking to an employee when ordering something, right?" 

Mikkel shook his head before grinning widely at Timothy, his bright blue eyes glimmering with childish glee that was common on the twenty-four year old.

"He just didn't speak to me, he  _answered_ me!  _Answered_ me Tim! He told me that he does walk to the shop in that cold outfit of his and he also might talk to me more!"

"Huh."

Mikkel narrowed his eyes and pouted, unsatisfied with the brief answer.

"You two would get along great, boring and never answering me the way I want."

Timothy rolled his eyes and returned to cleaning the coffee machine, turning off the various appliances as he prepared to close the shop. 

"Fine, what else did this guy you're practically stalking and obsessing over do?"

The Dane turned and pointed at the cakes and pastries sitting prettily in their displays in the glass display case, his eyes wide. 

"He looked at those!"

Timothy looked unimpressed at the display.

"And?"

Mikkel whined and stomped a foot, his bottom lip sticking out in another pout.

"He never looks at any of the food or stuff when he's in here, he just gets coffee and leaves!"

The Dane chose to leave out the time that Eirik had looked at him his second time visiting the store.

With a low sarcastic whistle Timothy began to clap slowly. 

"Congratulations, you saw a man looking at food. He might not have been hungry all those other times."

"You're kinda mean Tim, you know that?"

The Dutchman shrugged before flicking Mikkel in the forehead.

"You never let me forget."

 

 

 

The following Wednesday Eirik didn't show up.

Mikkel would be lying if he had said he didn't worry.

"He came for a month, four weeks straight, without ever missing his normal time! Its always around 3 pm on a Wednesday!"

Timothy looked up from his new novel towards Mikkel, an uninterested expression on his face.

"People have lives unlike us you know. He looked pretty young, maybe he's a college student and has an impromptu lecture today or something."

With a groan Mikkel looked among the few people in the shop, looking for the tell-tale platinum blond hair and blue scarf. Maybe he had hid in the cafe, not wanting to order anything today and simply was hanging around for the free wifi. It wasn't an uncommon event.

His search came up fruitless.

Mikkel's teeth began to worry at his bottom lip, his brows furrowing together. Timothy sighed and straightened, dog-earring the page in his book and shutting it closed before setting it on the counter. 

"He'll come up sometime or another, stop worrying about someone other than yourself. Its not like some full-time coffee shop owner to be worrying over a customer that has spoken fewer than fifty words to him."

Mikkel would have fired any other employee if they had spoken to him like that, but Timothy was a friend and his words were correct. He was the owner of a coffee shop, he shouldn't be worrying over a customer. He was to keep business matters strictly out of personal life.

And yet, he couldn't forget the strange pressure in his chest when he had watched Eirik tuck a lock of long blond hair behind his ear. Something about the gesture made him seem that much more obtainable, much more human than the faerie-like creature he appeared to be.

It was at that moment that Mikkel realized that he couldn't keep Eirik out of his personal life. He was much too curious, much too obsessed...

He was once again a teenage boy mulling over a person that has caught his interest, one that most people would call a "crush."

"Oh boy Timmy, I think I've fallen in some deep shit."

Mikkel spoke with a grim look, his eyes staring at the wall behind his friend.

Timothy didn't reprimand the idiotic nickname or the vulgar language in the facility, recognizing the look on Mikkel's face from their days in college. He instead answered with the appropriate reply.

"Well, shit."

 

 

 

On Wednesday, December the 17th, at 3 pm in the afternoon, Eirik entered the coffee shop, once again carrying the breeze of mystery with him. But today it was tainted, something marring the once clear scent of juniper and forest air.

"What happened!?" Mikkel exclaimed once Eirik neared the counter.

The enigma winced at the loud voice, a hand tightening around the small black notebook he seemed to carry all the time. His eyes averted to the floor, a hand reaching up to touch the mark that darkened him.

A bruise. It appeared small, but was starkly noticeable on the pale skin of Eirik's forehead. It blossomed purple and green, an angry and colorful ugly weed on what was once a field of untouched snow.

Eirik's hand brushed a blond bang in front of the bruise, concealing it from sight before setting down a handful of coins on the counter.

"Coffee, black."

Mikkel could feel all the worry from the previous week spill over, pressing him to step around the counter, take Eirik by the shoulder with one hand (Eirik was very cold to the touch), and use the other to uncover the bruise.

It looked even worse up close. Mikkel could hear the words "concussion" or "head trauma" hissing into his ears.

"Eirik, tell me, is this why you didn't come to the shop last week?"

The puzzle replied to the words with a small frightened gasp, his teeth baring like a cornered animal's as he reached up to shove Mikkel away, his blue eyes wide and glaring at Mikkel with a crazed look.

"Don't touch me."

Mikkel blinked, dumbfounded at the low words.

"What?"

"Don't touch me."

Eirik repeated the three words with more force, his initial fright turning to something much more akin to heavily concealed emotion, the only hint that the shorter male was angry being his normally detached expression being replaced by one much more tense.

Mikkel was frustrated. Why couldn't he figure this one out? Why could he not understand the every move of this one man?

"You promised me, Eirik. You told me you would talk to me more. Why can't you talk to me now? I'm  _worried,_ dammit!"

Eirik looked away, his free hand reaching up to hug himself, the other slipping the small notebook in a jean pocket.

"Why are you worried about me? I'm just a customer."

Mikkel opened his lips to reply when he felt a sturdy hand on his shoulder. Looking behind him he could see the stern expression of Timothy, his steely green eyes flickering towards the customers in the coffee shop with a low, "Mikkel, stop."

The Dane looked towards the tables to see about seven pairs of eyes peering back at him, the various people in the shop looking towards the spectacle of Eirik and the normally friendly shop-owner.

With a small tsk Mikkel released Eirik, stepping away with a quiet apology.

Eirik took the cup of black coffee sitting forgotten on the counter, set there earlier by Timothy while he had run around the counter to stop Mikkel, and left the shop.

 

 

 

The following Wednesday was Christmas Eve. Timothy had left the United States to visit his sister in Belgium.

Eirik arrived, surprising Mikkel in a pleasant and yet guilty way. He had yet to fully and deeply apologize for his behavior, not including that uncharacteristically and pitiful whimper he had done the previous Wednesday.

The bruise had faded, clearing from an angry bloom to a soft patch of discolored skin.

He arrived in light attire, his blue scarf ever present. He came to the counter, his hands fidgeting with the notebook in them.

Mikkel began to apologize when Eirik cut him off with a quiet murmur.

"I am sorry about last week."

The Dane froze, looking at the ever deepening riddle in front of him. Why was he apologizing? Was it not Mikkel who had confronted him, had handled him roughly, had crossed a border that he shouldn't have touched. And here was the ever deepening puzzle, his normal distant expression replaced by one much more familiar to Mikkel: embarrassment. A soft dusting of pink could be seen across Eirik's pale cheeks.

Eirik glanced up at him before looking away, his embarrassed expression quickly being masked once more by a far-off look. Breathing in deeply, Eirik straightened and faced Mikkel straight on, his hand lifting and dropping an assortment of coins quietly on the formica.

"Coffee, black."

Mikkel could feel a grin break on his face, his eyes widening in classic excitement. 

"Well Eirik, I didn't expect this at all! You spoke more than four words to me all at once, that's great!"

The Dane then crossed his arms, pursing his lips and tilting his head to the side as he averted his gaze guiltily to the shop wall. 

"But really, I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have touched you like that. You barely know me anyway and I probably butted into something I shouldn't have. Ya' know, Timmy always tell me that I should stop sticking my nose in other's people businesses, but I was, like, super scared when I saw your bruise! Something just snapped in me, really! I'm telling you-"

Eirik all the while was staring blankly at Mikkel, listening quietly to the taller male rant. He appeared to have no care for what Mikkel was saying, but his eyes betrayed otherwise as they glimmered with amusement.

"Could I perhaps get my coffee?"

Mikkel stopped, glancing down at Eirik in surprise before barking a hearty laugh. 

"No patience listening to an idiot speak on, huh? Timmy's the same way, but instead he gives me a good punch in the shoulder to stop me or something. One black coffee, coming right up!"

The Dane soon had the hot beverage ready and set it down on the counter, watching fascinated as Eirik picked up the cup and sipped at the warm liquid. The platinum-blond silently sighed, his eyes now half-lidded as he enjoyed the heated drink before glancing at Mikkel.

"It tastes... different."

Mikkel panicked. In a flurry he turned toward the various appliances behind him.

"What? Different? Maybe its because I made it instead of Tim? I might have unknowingly put in some sugar or something oh god... Oh wait, did I use the wrong amount of beans, gimme a sec I'll check-"

"Its good."

Twirling around to face Eirik once at the quiet compliment Mikkel caught a glimpse of a sight that changed his life. Eirik was smiling.

It was a small smile, just the corners of his pale lips lifted mere centimeters, but it was a smile nonetheless. Eirik's eyes narrowed a bit when he was smiling, and Mikkel could swear that he was glowing with a shine of silent happiness. And it was at that moment Mikkel had another revelation about Eirik.

Eirik was beautiful.

It was a cliched phrase really, overused and overrun. Almost every modern day young adult novel or cheap romance convenience store book used the phrase constantly, usually when the male protagonist fell in love with some generic female character. But here, it was different.

Eirik was honest-to-earth beautiful in his own cold and distant way, the way his wavy light-blond hair curled slightly at the nape of the neck, the way his dark-blue eyes seemed endless and far-off, his fair skin that seemed flawless from a distance, but if you looked closer you could see a small spatter of freckles that were most likely caused from staying out in the sun too long. But what made Eirik so different from any other beauty was the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to barely touch the ground with each step he took, the way he glided silently into a room but made such an impact on any of the bystanders that watched him.

Mikkel wanted to cry, he was far off the edge with this one.

The platinum-blond's smile disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, a hand slipping that curious black notebook back into his pocket before he clasped the paper cup with both hands as he breathed in deeply before speaking.

"Can I ask three questions?"

Mikkel blinked out of his reverie, a hesitant smile slipping with a stutter on his lips as he nodded.

"Sure, throw 'em at me."

"Where is Timothy?"

"Woah wait a moment, how'd you know his name?"

Eirik simply pointed at Mikkel's chest, where a name tag was pinned proudly on his apron front saying, "Hi, my name is Mikkel!"

"Oh."

The blond merely shrugged and nodded for the Dane to continue.

"Well, Timmy's father and Tim himself moved to America a while ago from the Netherlands, his father wanted to get some doctorate. His mom stayed behind in Europe, moving to Belgium with her relatives with his little sister. Since its Christmas tomorrow he wanted to go visit her I guess. He left sometime last Friday I think?"

Eirik nodded in understanding, his fingers now tapping his cup as he glanced outside. 

"Second question, why is the shop so empty?"

Mikkel snapped his fingers, leaning on the counter and folding his arms together as he looked up at Eirik. 

"Easy one, because its Christmas Eve. Not many people visit here during Christmas Eve, they're too busy partying or doing last-minute Christmas shopping. Sometimes we get the occasional tired shopper who wants to rest their feet in a place with free wifi with a nice cup of warm coffee, but mostly I'm alone during these times."

Eirik nodded for the third time before sipping once again at his coffee. He also leaned back on the counter, facing away from Mikkel. His eyes followed a laughing couple outside, a group of shopping bags hanging from their arms as their breath puffed out it clouds of steam. You could hear their happy laughter through the window.

"Last question, why are you alone and working on Christmas Eve?"

Mikkel grunted in mild surprise at the question, leaning his chin in the palm of a hand as he close his eyes and shrugged.

"Dunno, since I don't have anyone to spend it with. If I'm not doing anything I might as well just spend the day working at the shop. Maybe I'll work tomorrow too."

Eirik bit his bottom lip, worrying it slightly to bring it to a light pink as he tapped his cup once again. It sounded half-empty.

"Do you not go to church for Christmas service?"

"I used to, but I stopped once the people began to call me things like 'fag' and other things. I dunno if you're against it, but I can't really say I'm all that normal according to society today, and churches that call people things like that aren't really churches."

"How are you not normal?"

Mikkel would have stopped and had changed the subject if it was anyone else, but speaking with Eirik was different. He listened, truly listened, and it was apparent with his carefully timed responses and the questions that he brought up. The Dane felt oddly at ease with him, as if he had spoken this long with him before, perhaps in a previous life. Silly thought really, but something drew him to speak to Eirik.

"Uh, well, let's just say I'm into both girls and guys."

"I see."

A moment of silence passed between the two males, but oddly enough it was not an uncomfortable one. It was merely one of mutual understanding, of acceptance. Mikkel didn't feel the usual weight or pressure on his shoulders or the cold stone that dropped into his stomach when he mentioned his sexuality. Instead, he could feel some of it lifted.

"I don't see anything wrong with it."

Mikkel smiled at the simple reassurance from Eirik, an eye opening to look up at the beauty looking out the shop windows.

"Thanks Eirik, makes me feel better about myself."

They spent the next hour making light conversation, and the room was full to the brim of the warm and fulfilled feeling of two kindred souls. Mikkel somehow felt that his Christmas Eve wasn't as lonely as he thought it was going to be.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Hate was such a waste of human resources. So little was accomplished with hate, so much more with love.”_

_  
\-- Haley Walsh, _Foxe Tail__

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Denmark and Norway were always a classic favorite of mine, their personalities just lots of fun when they're interacting with each other, so of course I had to write them!  
> I have many headcanons about them, this fic will only contain about a hundredth of them, but I hope I do get the love I have for these two across with this three shot.  
> Thank you for reading and feel free to request a writing or tell me how I did so far in the comments! Message me over email or on my tumblr at [youubi](http://www.youubi.tumblr.com)!


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